


Promise of Blood

by Spade_Storm



Category: Dracula (TV 2013), Young Justice
Genre: Consorts - Freeform, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Possessive Behavior, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:39:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spade_Storm/pseuds/Spade_Storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conner meets a man named Alexander Grayson, he’s handsome, seductive, and determined to make the teen his. Klarion tries to summon Dracula from his cursed slumber.  It fails. The problem?  He’s already awake.  What do these two have in common? Grayson and Dracula are one and the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pilot…We’re going down

**Author's Note:**

> Time Line:  
> August: Superboy’s escape from Cadmus Labs.  
> September: Superboy gets Sphere.  
> September: Team goes back to school. Superboy starts school.  
> October: Current

"Is God willing to prevent evil but not able?  
Then he is not Omnipotent  
Is he able but not willing?  
Then he is malevolent.  
Is he able and willing?  
Then from whence cometh evil?  
Is he neither able nor willing?  
Then why call him god?"  
-Epicurus, 341 BC, Samos – 270 BC, Athens

* * *

 

  
It was a dark place. Ruins and magic circles covered the walls. Standing at strategic points were mages. One in particular wore a wide grin on his face as he chanted with the others. His suit, long limbs and angular face, dark eyes, and spiked horned hair, could belong only to one sorcerer, Klarion, the Witch Boy. The chanting grew in crescendo. Ruins glowed and magic bounced against the walls, against stone and iron and flesh.

They sought to awaken a monster.

They aimed to turn a King into a Slave.

But a guest had arrived. He hid in the shadows, where the darkness embraced him, caressing his hair and trailing down his chest. The magic rolled over but never touched. It was blind and stupid and arrogant. It was when the ritual was at its peak that he struck, hard and fast. Like an expert puppet master, he yanked control, fiercely and mercilessly. He wrapped the magic, the intention, around Klarion and squeezed.

The chaos lord shrieked. He wasn’t the only one. The shadows surged forward, held the other mages in place, slowly crushing them.

“Teekl!”, Klarion’s familiar, wasn’t spared. It fought viciously. Klarion’s magic flared around the feline, attempted to shift the small animal but failed.

“My, my…what an annoying pest, scratching at my chamber door…”

The figure shimmers from his dark corner, eyes a glittering crimson. He smiles, face obscured by darkness, and his canines extend inhumanely, sharp and unusually white.

“You!” Klarion screeches, “You’re supposed to have been sleeping! And I-I was to be your master! No fair! No fair! No fair!”

The figure chuckles. “You can’t hide from me. I can smell your fear, little chaos. But you did not seek me out of your own accord. No, that was the desire of another. Tell me.”

For a moment, the dark magician is still and silent. He glances to his familiar and flinches at how exhausted and beaten she is. She glances back and gives the mage an unimpressed and helpless look. Klarion is nothing if not stubborn and spoiled, however, and shakily laughs.

“What’s wrong Dracky? Scared of The Light?” The emphasis doesn’t escape the dark figure’s notice. He moves closer and the magic compressed within the enclosed space becomes thick and congested.

“I do not need fear the sun. Light is no different.” He stops a breath away. “But if you won’t give me what I ask for then I’ll just have to take it.”

Faster than Klarion could expect, powerful jaws clamped down on his neck, razor sharp incisions pierced ageless flesh…and began to drink.

The immortal screamed.

There was no spell, no barrier or shield to defend against a vampire’s feeding. This vampire, in particular, drank for more than to simply satisfy his hunger-he drank for the Witch Boy’s memory. No matter what anyone did, their blood carried within them their genetic memory of life. Life, the experiences one undergoes, leaves an imprint. This is what he craved to find-the memory of who and why. He cared nothing for the pain it caused his prey.

Klarion cursed and wailed in agony. He struggled but succeeded only in tearing open his own wound. Blood splattered on the ground and down their cloths. But he could do nothing as memories bled from his mind, as scene after scene after scene was taken from him.

Abruptly, the vampire tore himself away from the, now, whimpering magician.

“Savage!” the vampire hisses with hate, blood dripping from his chin. “That human has become as bothersome as that Order. And you…”

The vampire glares at Klarion, crimson eyes flashing with disdain and hate.

“You should have better sense than to try my hand.”

With that the vampire placed a hand over the Witch Boy’s chest. The magic tightened its hold as the shadows furled behind the mages. At the sight, the hostages’ struggles renewed. Even Teekl stiffened in the magical binds and Klarion’s face paled further. The shadows moved and shifted aggressively before forming a large black portal. It made no noise. It gave off neither heat nor cold draft. In fact, if one wasn’t directly looking at it, one would have completely missed it.

“Now that you have over stayed your welcome, its time you and your friends went home.” The other mages were thrown into the dark void but as Klarion and his familiar were pulled in, the vampire gave a promise. “And this time you won’t be coming back…any of you.”

With a final shriek Klarion and his familiar follow their accomplices through the darkness. Immediately after, the shadows broke apart, sealing them on the other side. The vampire waves one hand and the shadows again leapt to his command. They leap to the foundations of the walls, in the stones, and tore at them. With a roar, they crack and tear.  
The vampire turns to step into a space of shadow and is gone just before the cavern collapses.

When he reappears it is to the interior of a dark elegantly leather-lined designed Rolls Royce. The driver, an immaculately dressed African American with a clean cut beard and driver hat, glanced back at him but his expression gave away no surprise or fear.

“I take it all is well?” His voice is smooth, baritone and cultured. “Or do you require me to make additional arraignments?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” The vampire, now no longer shielded by darkness, was dressed in a form fitted suit and expertly fixed his expensive gold cufflinks.

“But we do have work to do. It seems certain elements have seen fit to seek out the famed Father of Vampires…Dracula.”

The vampire stretched himself out along the cushioned seats but his driver knew better. He could tell from the way the vampire’s jaw clenched and ticked that he was, in fact, quite angry.

“If its Dracula they want then Dracula they shall receive.”

“Are you sure that is a wise course, Master?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He gave a dark smirk, “But it’s about time the hunters become the hunted.”

* * *

 

Superboy ignored the clattering of sound from the base kitchen.  He didn’t doubt that Megan was busy cooking her heart out.  The clone frowned but busied himself by running his hands over Sphere, his new friend.  Although, the others referred to her as an “it” and a “pet”, he managed to clamp down on his anger.  It helped that Sphere demanded his attention whether it was running his hand along her sides or just mindless talking.  It didn’t matter as long as he was there giving her attention. 

It reminded him about himself…and Superman. 

Everything came back to him, to Superman. 

Superboy was tired of thinking about the Man of Steel.  Sphere knew he was tired.  He knew Sphere knew.  But he didn’t know what to do about it…and neither did she.  So they just sat in the garage, in the dim light and kept each other company. 

This day was different, however.  It had been several weeks since he started school with Megan and taken on the name “Conner Kent”.

He was still adjusting to having two names.  Being Conner Kent wasn’t so hard.  He just had to remind himself not to show his powers.  The entire day was a litany of reminders. No powers. No powers. No powers. No powers. No powers. No powers. Again and again and again until his head ached and his fingers twitched but he managed.  He _adapted_. 

Megan hovered for a while but he endured it.  Still endured it, actually.  He didn’t like it, like her watching him.  It made him feel as if he were being studied back at the labs again and that infuriated him.  But he endured and pushed the anger back because of one fundamental fact…

…He was allowed outside. 

Without the team, too.  

He might have to be Conner Kent to do so but it was a minor sacrifice in comparison to the fight to get out of the labs.

So, Conner Kent went to school for the first time. He knew most of everything the other students were being taught but not everything.  There were some things that he obviously didn’t get.  Slang was one of them.  Conner knew there were types of slang, knew its history, and the roots of it all right down to the filth and grime.  But using it and having it used toward him was another matter. 

Talking and being social was also not something he knew how to do.  His first friends he met by beating up and capturing for Cadmus to be used and disposed of.  It wasn’t like he could do the same to a normal human teen…that were most definitely not Robin. 

This day wasn’t like the others.  He’d been listening to the other teens talk about their plans for the Halloween holiday.  Some had been talking about haunted houses and parties.  But what really caught his attention was one student mention how she really wanted to take a trip to New Orleans for the festivals that start a few days early and go on well into early November. It wouldn’t have held his attention except she had unexpectedly turned to him and asked him if he didn’t think it was a great idea to “get away from it all even for a little while”. 

He answered without thinking.  He said yes.

Conner doesn’t say anything out loud.  He doesn’t mention it to anyone else.  But the idea was planted and is _there_.  It’s been sitting in his head, the idea, and her words, festering and taking shape. 

So, he filled a duffle bag with extra clothes and hid it away inside his personal bathroom.

That was three days ago. 

He lined his bag with all the allowance he’s been given since school started. 

That was two days ago.

No one said anything about how he used the money given to him.  He spent so long following the rules, doing as he is told.  All he’s ever wanted was for Superman-his father in everything except presence-to recognize him, to acknowledge him, tell him he wasn’t a mistake.

But it’s been more than two months since the man turned him away.  Two months of everyone telling him to be patient, to be understanding.  Two months of hearing someone say that the man would come around.  Conner was tired of waiting.  Even more, he was tired of the excuses.

He understood rejection and hate and fear and pain.  But he wanted _more_. The team and the mentors have done their best but he felt like something is still missing.  That’s not to say he isn’t grateful for all that they’ve given him.  It’s just that they can’t be everything. 

Right now, there feels like there’s a gaping wound in his chest and its eating away at the rest of him and Conner desperately wants to fill it. 

He went back and asked that same girl what she would do if she made it to New Orleans and her answer shouldn’t have affected him but it left his hands shaking.  She didn’t blush or stutter or hesitate.  Her blue eyes gave him a hard searching look then stared him in the eyes and he isn’t sure what she saw but whatever it was made her speak.

“I’d lose myself…” she whispered, “I’d forget everything in the world that mattered to me.  I would sing and dance and scream and cry and curse the world to hell.”

There was a shadow behind her eyes and suddenly, he wished he knew her name.

“I’d drink and laugh like nothing bothers me.  I’d kiss a man, maybe a woman or two.” She gives a careless shrug of her shoulders, “Take a complete stranger to bed and with my heart racing and my blood rushing to my ears, I’d beg for more and more and more until the sun is long gone or just rising. I want to forget all the bad for something good and great and amazing.”

She lowers her gaze, letting her raven colored bangs hide the glassy look of her eyes.  “There’s no cliché about life, no witty quote to describe it…except that you only get one.  Better to live it the best you can than wait for it to end and regret what you didn’t do...”

A heavy silence follows and Conner knows there’s something in her voice, some kind of fear he doesn’t understand.  He felt his inside go cold. 

“You gonna go?” She asked after a beat.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I’ve got enough for a one way ticket,” she looks up, tears in her eyes, “take me with you?”

“Okay,” he agrees, and doesn’t ask her where that ticket will take her.  The smile she gives reaches her eyes.

That was yesterday.

Today is when they leave.

His bag is prepped.  He leaves behind all of his shirts with the familiar S shield.  This wasn’t a trip for Superboy.  It wasn’t a mission or a recon.  This was about escape and forgetting, including everything about Superboy and Cadmus and Project Kr.

Conner Kent was a regular teen who goes to a normal high school.  Today, Conner Kent was going to New Orleans for All Hallows Eve.  He was going to meet a friend at the school and together they were going to head south to Louisiana.  It was a twenty-two hour drive. 

Sphere stops purring beneath her bonded’s touch to give a deep rumble.  Once she is sure she has his attention, she gives one sure chirp, rocks forward to bump the teen gently before rolling back and transforming.  Conner watches in awe as Sphere twitches and shifts and moves parts of herself, changing her shape and hiding parts of her form.  When she stops, it is to a sight Conner is familiar with.  A sleek metallic black and red Suzuki Hayabusa motorcycle flashes its headlights at him.  A full black helmet morphs from the body to rest on the seat. 

Conner smiles and rubs the space between the headlights.  Then he turns and heads to his room to grab his duffle.  He doesn’t want to go through the kitchen, so he takes a detour through the medical wing.  It’s longer but he doesn’t have to try to lie to a certain telepath to get away so he doesn’t mind.  The rest of the team won’t make it until nightfall so he has time make it out. 

It doesn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to get his duffle and get back to Sphere.  Then they’re off, Sphere giving a content rumble beneath him.  The sun is just setting, casting the mountain and the city in a glow of oranges, reds, and even purple hues.  Conner takes his time, careful with his speed and makes his way to Happy Harbor High.  When he gets there, the sun has sunk below the horizon and there is a chill in the air.  He parks beneath the school library windows, lifts his visor and starts to whistle.        

Conner isn’t left waiting long.  His hearing picks up the familiar sounds of treads on concrete, sneakers, and an elevated heartbeat.  She rounds the corner in a large hooded sweater, jeans, and a thick scarf around her neck.  There’s a smaller satchel over her shoulder.  The hood of her sweater was up, hiding her face, but even from a distance he could see she was shaking.  He didn’t know if it was from fear or the cold.  He doesn’t ask. 

“You came,” she breathed in relief, “thanks.”

“Yeah.” He takes her bag and secures it to Sphere, gets back in his seat, takes off his helmet and offers it to her. “You ready?”

She takes a deep breath and Conner clenches one of his fists around the bars of the bike at the rattling sound that reaches his ears.  When she draws near, he makes sure not to move.  She takes the helmet, puts it on and sits behind him.  Once she settles, he eases Sphere onto the road and sticks to paths with less light, easily falling back on his own covert training. 

“It’s about twenty-three hours to New Orleans.” He tells her.

“Okay.” And that’s it.  The excitable babble from school is washed away, like someone ripped a mask covering her true face.  He doesn’t push or press her because he knows the worth of secrets, the weight of them. 

They make good time.  Sphere doesn’t need fuel but he stops to let the girl off to stretch her legs and use the restrooms.  He buys several snacks and they stop on the side of the road to eat them before they head off again.  Conner drives the entire way and avoids the tolls.  When she sleeps, Sphere shifts to keep her in place and keep her from falling. 

They arrive in New Orleans mid-morning. 

He pulls into the parking lot of a nearby dinner.  She’s tired but a smile tugs at the corner of her lips and Conner’s glad for it.  When he gets a good look at her face, he picks up the darkening of her left eye and a reddening around her neck.  Conner calms himself knowing that she wasn’t with the one who hurt her.  A waitress is quick to see them.

“Hello darlings!” She smiles and Conner notices the slight roll of her “r” and immediately takes note that while their waitress was no doubt southern born, she probably is native to somewhere further south of Louisiana.

“Ma’ name’s Clare.  Couple coming down fo’ the festival?” she’s an older woman, plump and with strips of grey in her brown hair.

“Siblings, actually.” Conner speaks up as the girl-it was bothering the clone that he still didn’t know her name-ducks her head and stares at her lap. “And, yeah, we’re hoping we made it in time.”

“Oh, well, there’s plenty to do ‘til then.  We got plenty o’ parties, shops, an’ tours, too.  Lots o’ other things durin’ the day like the museum if yur’ interested in that.”

“We need a place to stay.  It was a spur of the moment thing to drive down here.  Know any places?”  He finds it easy to talk when he has to keep attention on himself.

“Plenty o’ places in New Orleans to stay, hun.  Around this time tho’ you need money for something like the Marriot.”

“I’ve got a bunch of savings so money isn’t a problem.  I just figured I’d try to show my sister the best of New Orleans. ” Conner gives a small smile at the idea of the girl being his sister, being his family. 

“Well, how ‘bout I give ya’ a list o’ places when I come back with yo’ order, sound good?”  Clare smiles back.  “So, know what y’all having?”

The two order a hearty breakfast and Clare walks away with a smile.  They don’t have to wait long before Clare returns with arms laden with plates.  Soon, their plates are filled with eggs, bacon, Taylor ham, pancakes, waffles, toasted slices of bread, and a large pitcher of juice.  They eat in silence and about half way through Clare returns to their table and put the list next to Conner.  She happily gives a few extra details about the hotels and motels in the area before heading back to work.

They leave close to an hour later. It doesn’t take long for Conner to get to the Westin New Orleans Canal Hotel in the business district and near the French Quarter.  The girl forgot herself as soon as they pulled into the parking area in the front.  He didn’t bring attention to how obvious her bruises were but he gently took her hand and led her to the desk where Conner could see a woman attendant.  He was sure if he hadn’t turned to the girl and asked if she wanted her own room or share a double the attendant would have called security on him.  He wasn’t sure she still wouldn’t. 

“My dad would have never let me stay here.” She says and leans on his shoulder, her gaze never leaving the massive hall. 

That gave the attendant pause and she turned to look Conner in the eye.  There is a question there and Conner doesn’t know how to answer it.  He finds himself closing his eyes, and sighs deeply.  He suddenly felt tired, too tired to be angry on her behalf and his shoulders unconsciously sag in response.  He quickly opens his eyes and stars back at the attendant.       

“I have cash and...” his voice suddenly trails off.  He doesn’t know what else to say.

“We have a deluxe double room available…” Her fingers flow across the computer, “with two full beds with a full view of the city and the river.  We have a special for seven days for twenty-two hundred dollars.  Does that sound fair?”

When she looks back at him, there is a gleam in her eyes and a gentle smile.  They’ve been given a lot of those.  It was nice.  He rifts through his duffle, counting out the cash before handing it over.  Afterwards everything is a blur.  Sphere is carefully placed within an enclose private parking area and the two teens are ushered into their room with a tour.  Two of the personnel take their bags for them.  The room is massive, clean and decorated lavishly. 

Roughly five hundred feet all around with complete furnishings in the bedroom and sitting room with a telephone and radio on a light mahogany desk, cable channels on a flat-screen TV, and a safe.  The beds were made with all white sheets and comforters with mahogany wood headboards.  It had air conditioning, a fan, and heating.  The bedroom had a pair of sliding doors that opened into the sitting area that was furnished with luxury contemporary sets including a love seat, a long sofa and a backless bench near the wide windows, all done in the same shade of white, gold, and mahogany.  There are free toiletries in a complete bathroom with a bathtub and shower made with white marble and gold trimmings.  There is a minibar (which the concierge of the floor cleaned of alcohol) set up with a coffee machine, and even a wake-up service alongside room service.  There is a book on hotel policy on one of the night stands.  Every room was well lit and with the exception of the bathroom, the other two rooms had wide windows facing the city and the Mississippi river.

This was the room they would spend a week in.  The girl burst out laughing with tears in her eyes.  She turns to Conner, ignoring the other people there, and throws herself at him.  He catches her without any struggle but doesn’t put her down as she sobs her heart out.  There is a litany of ‘thank yous’ from her that he half catches. 

After she calms enough to explore on her own, Conner tips the staff and says nothing as they let themselves out.  He duly ignores the soft gaze they give him and his “sister”.    

“Hey, uhh…” Conner stops himself, unsure.

“Alyssa.  My name is Alyssa Procter.” She keeps her gaze out toward the river.

“Conner Kent.”

“I’m glad I meet you Conner Kent.” She turns to him, a large smile on her face, “I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”

“Sure.  If you want to go out, I can give you some money. Room’s paid for a week.” 

“Okay. Thanks.”

The next few hours fly by, filled with food, clean cloths, and warm beds.  After Alyssa cleans up, she covers her black eye with makeup and her bruised neck with a scarf.  She dresses for a night out on the town.  Conner cleans up also dressing in pair of jeans and a green t-shirt.  When they make their way out, the sun is setting and Conner gives her several hundred before letting her go her own way.  The French Quarter is about a ten to fifteen minute walk and has blocks of shops offering candy, masks, costumes, and other things.  Conner takes Sphere out to Bourbon Street, where almost everyone is dressed up. 

The streets aren’t well lit, leaving majority of everything in shadow.  Conner parked Sphere in a public parking area with good lights before joining the crowd.  There was dancing and singing.  People were drinking, teens and adults, and stands offering food for sale. 

Conner was amazed by everything he saw.  There were killer clowns, dead doll girls, masked ballroom dancers, nurses in stilettos, and he even saw a scarecrow.  There were plenty more, too.  There was the traditional witch and wizard and then the not so traditional.  Some wore miniskirts and clothing that barely covered enough skin to be considered dressed.  The men were no different.

Conner spied more than one werewolf and Frankenstein monster without a shirt.  The night practically oozed with adrenaline and pheromones.  It set his teeth on edge and his fingers twitching.  But it didn’t feel bad.  If he had to say…Conner would guess he felt nervous.  He’s never done something so adventurous.

Suddenly, the teen’s breathing becomes harsh and his palms started to sweat.  The shock that had lain buried creeps upon him, digging into his spine and starts to spread.  _I disobeyed orders_ , he realized.  And he did.  He also took extra care to remain untraceable.  He broke his communicator, avoided cameras with Sphere’s help and even aided a fellow student run away.  _All without a single shred of permission_.  It was deliberate and delinquent and criminal and selfish and something _Superman_ would _never_ do!-

-the last thought stops Conner mid stride.

_Something Superman would never do_.

The clone takes a good look around and tries to come up with a reason-a real, _solid_ reason-to leave, to go back.  All he can see are smiling and laughing faces.  A couple share a skull frosted cake, a group takes pictures with someone dressed like a pirate and a vendor offers a giggling pair of cheerleaders a penis shaped candy stick.

He hears Alyssa’s words ringing in his ears, her blackened eye and trembling hands flash across his mind.  Her relieved smile and laugh sooth a painful part of him. Heroes are supposed to protect the innocent, give them the chance to be happy.  But didn’t heroes deserve to be happy, too?  Didn’t Conner Kent- _an innocent_ -deserve happiness?

If Alyssa believed letting go was the way to do it, then he would.  If letting go meant breaking the rules and throwing himself- _body and soul_ -completely into the unknown for even a slim chance, than he’d do it.  Because if Superman wasn’t going to help him and if everyone else was content to wait- _for_ _the love of all things, Conner was tired of waiting!_ \- then Conner would try to go it alone.

Better to try than do nothing at all.

With his mind set, Conner starts to move again.  He stumbles into a random party, where people and drinks spill out into the street.  He lets the violent music deafen him and slide into the dance crowd.  Within seconds he was overwhelmed.  He couldn’t hear his own heartbeat or the beating of those around him.  The base vibrated and shook the ground beneath his feet, disorienting him.

He felt lost.  There were too many bodies within the crowd, blocking his view of the way he came in.  It was dark and the lights flashed randomly.  He didn’t know which way to turn or where to go.  Conner felt the first strings of fear pool in his gut.  He wanted this, the teen reminded himself, and started the deep breathing exercises that Black Canary taught him. 

After a few moments the fear began to fade away.  Replacing that fear, was an excitable thrum that raced through the teen’s body.  Slowly, a smile crept its way across the clone’s face. ‘ _This is what **I** wanted.’_   His body starts to move, to sway, trying to follow the beat of the music.  A near hysterical laugh burst from Conner’s smiling lips.

Suddenly, the crowd surges and pushes Conner back into a hard and chiseled chest.  In the next second, there are hands on him, masculine and daring and wandering.  They pull him backwards into a muscled body, pressing him flush against the stranger’s front.

The teen doesn’t fight back.  His entire mind clouded and intoxicated by the freedom he’s now consciously aware of. There is no such thing as right or wrong.  There is no good or bad.  Just freedom, unadulterated and unsupervised freedom. 

Why shouldn’t he let go?     

Strong hips grind into his backside; firm hands grip his hips, pressing a jean covered hard on into his backside.  Conner’s breathing becomes sharp.  He can feel his body reacting, heat pooling in his gut.  A shiver overtakes his frame, making him tremble and twitch, reacting.  He leans his head back and is hit with a face full of the stranger’s aroused musk.  His hands struggle to find a perch and Conner finds himself reaching back to hold on to the other’s waist.  He loses himself, grinding back into the eager body.  The pair’s movement turn erratic, trying to follow the rhythm of the music and build friction.

They’re breathing becomes irregular.  One of the hands leaves his hip and travels up his shirt to rub one of his nipples through his shirt.  Pleasure shoots through him from the sensitive nub.  It courses from his chest sending blood pumping south.  Conner could feel his own excitement evident by the stiffness rising within his jeans. 

“Ha, aah!” 

The attention takes Conner’s breath away.  In seconds, however, that hand starts to tug on the same nipple, griping Conner through the shirt harshly before pulling and rubbing into his chest.  The clone does nothing to stop the moan from breaking past his lips, the sound lost over the roar of the music.  His sight becomes hazy as every part of him starts to burn.  His gaze turns to the ceiling but he can’t see it.  It was a fight to keep his eyes open but was distracted by the hand moving away from his chest.

Conner whimpers at the loss but he needn’t have worried.  That hand slips underneath his shirt to fondle his other nipple.  His hips push against the one behind him, gyrating on the man’s groin.  A hot mouth licks his ear and the other hand moves from his waist to the front of his jeans.  It massages him through the denim roughly, moving in a circular pattern.  But the pattern falls apart as the other’s pelvis grinds into Conner.  The clone can feel the heavy panting blow across his ear and it turns him on even more, making the heat coiling inside blind him.

“Nn…aah! Ha!” he moans loudly.  There was no need to muffle his voice so Conner didn’t bother trying.

The hand in his shirt moves back to his waist.  The stranger picks up the pace before tearing open the front of his pants and reaching inside to grab Conner’s erection to fondle him ruthlessly. 

“Nghh, ahhaa!” His eyes roll back and his eyelids flutter.

Conner leans heavily against the other man.  The teen throbbed in the stranger’s hand and an inflaming heat started to rush through him.  He couldn’t hear his own voice as the music blared all around him.  Everything was mounting, the heat and the burning and haze.  He couldn’t see anyone else in the crowd.  He lost focus.  There was nothing beyond the stranger’s hand on him, hot and relentless.  Conner’s thoughts dwindle until only that hand existed even as he gyrated back into the other’s crotch in a mockery of a dance.  

He was being pushed closer to the edge.  He didn’t know what would happen but he wanted it.  Pre-cum spilled over into the stranger’s hand, lubricating Conner’s cock and allowing the hand to glide more smoothly along the erect prick.  The hand tightens almost painfully and pumps faster while the hips behind the clone thrust with abandon. 

“Aahh! Hughh!” 

Suddenly, the coiling in his lower belly burst.  His vision disappears. Sound and sight is taken from him as his entire body is drowned in a stifling heat.  Conner doesn’t know how long he stood boneless against the stranger but when he came to; his hand was still inside his pants, milking him.  Conner’s body started to tremble as the burning started to flare again.  Before the teen could say anything there is a roar from above them.

Conner looks up only to be greeted by a cascade of falling water.    

Conner isn’t the only one who reacts.  The stranger jerks away from Conner, swearing loudly.  He isn’t the only one.  Several other people around them share his contempt.  Conner glances at his dance partner; his face is painted with Greek symbols- _like a frat boy_ \- with jeans and sneakers.

With the mood ruined and the stranger’s sudden lack of appeal, Conner wanders away.  He staggers outside, legs weak, breathe short but eyes burning brilliantly in the night.  The teen’s gaze wondered about him, about the crowd outside the party, and listlessly moved on without a destination in mind.      

His shirt is soaked through and the chilly breeze brushes against his chest, making his nipples erect and prominent through his, now, wet shirt.  The streets are even more congested with people.  He stumbles and, again, he falls into a masculine body. 

“Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. 

Unaware, Conner’s hand grabs on to a finely tailored suit and uses it as leverage to steady his feet.  Gloved hands hold him close and up right.  A cultured and baritone voice drags his attention from his feet to this new stranger.

“No apology needed.”

Grey-blue eyes pierce Conner’s own alien blue.  The teen feels his breath hitch.  This stranger catches Conner’s attention, immediately.  This time there is no music, no deafening beat to overwhelm his senses.  His insides twist into jittery knots.  The self-induced hazy arousal clears away, leaving the clone with sharp clarity.  Conner doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels so safe when it’s obvious the person in front of him was _dangerous_.  It was completely illogical and that immediately set alarms off in his head.  He needed to get away. 

Conner pulls away ready to push his way back to Sphere, only to meet resistance.  The stranger doesn’t let him go, instead placing his arms around the teen’s waist and locking him in place.  Conner meets his gaze.  The man is handsome, unquestionably so, with aristocratic features, windblown hair combed back and a pair of fiercely inhuman eyes, the color of fine steel.  The other moves one hand from Conner’s waist to take the clone’s hand and bring it to his lips, a flirtatious smirk gracing the man’s mouth.

“And what is the name of such a…” those bright eyes, rove along Conner’s form. “…captivating creature?”

The man’s voice flows over Conner’s senses like fine silk and before the clone realizes what he’s doing, he’s answering the stranger.

“Conner…Conner Kent.” He says breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away. “Y-yours?”

“Alexander…” the man _purrs_ , as he brushes his lips against Conner’s captured hand, pulling the teen even closer, until they were a just a breath away. “Alexander Grayson.  It is my utmost _pleasure_ to meet you.”

* * *

 

The Beast takes a breath.

Stops...and opens its eyes. It listens. It hears.

"Conner...Conner Kent."

Mine.

_Mine._

**_MINE!_ **

* * *

 

 ...And so it begins...

 


	2. Chapter Two: Exotic Tastes…and Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Night with a Vampire and the Morning After (Or: How Neglect and Abuse Saved the Vampire).

“Pursuit and Seduction are the essence of Sexuality.  
It’s part of the sizzle.”  
-Camille Paglia

* * *

 

R.M. Renfield is not an ignorant man. No one that has met him could say he’s a man unaware of the world nor could it be said that he is unintelligent. But he did carry a certain air about him. It was not that he was of African American descent, no. It was not that he wore specially tailored gentlemen suits befitting his station at his Master’s side, no. It was not that he was his Master’s _only_ human servant, made eternal, his Master’s Right Hand, as it were, no.

It was that he knew his Master.

It was knowledge, guarded and protected unyieldingly, that Renfield carried. Thus, when meeting others, there is always a distinction about him, as if he knew more than any other in his company, sans his Master. It was this knowledge that gave him an edge against others; that made others weary of him. It’s also what allowed him to understand his Master.

A Master with a certain set of goals and ambitions.

That same master who also had…particular taste.

One of which quite literally walked into said Master. Normally, his master would feed indiscernibly but with the rise of “heroes”, such practice became particularly dangerous to his Master and to his Master’s children. But it was a problem easily remedied. After all, who would miss the vagabonds and filth that terrorized the “good” citizens? Such incidents are easily explained away as turf wars or deals gone wrong. Of course, this was not a permanent solution. Measures had to have been taken in case accidents happened.

His Master’s children fell into a number of categories. But those who were the most useful, the more powerful, walked in the day. Such children were encouraged to take positions of power to further aid their Sire and the Coven. Positions like law enforcement, medicine and medical science were but a few of those stations.  The others were simply "ferals" and described those who trade reason for power and who give in to their bloodlust.  Ferals were hunted by both sides. 

Thus far, his Master’s plans have come together and bore fruit. There were a few close calls, of course. No system is without flaws, after all. Certain individuals such as the League’s Batman are aware that there are more things that prowl the dark. There are speculations and suspicions but nothing concrete. Abominations have been encountered but no true child of his Master has ever been exposed.

At least, not to the world.

Humans who live for the purpose of hunting his Master and his children on the other hand, are a different matter.

They sought his Master’s children with a furious zeal. Obsessive, really. Hypocritical as well. They stalked the “monsters” to protect the “prey” while blatantly ignoring their own thrill and hunger of the hunt, the monster that lurked within themselves. But they were cunning and devious. As a result, his Master was always careful when it came to humans.

That didn’t stop his Master’s rather ravenous appetite.

Which brings Reinfield back to the youth pressed firmly against his Master, who was no doubt young and unquestionably, currently, _vulnerable_. The servant frowned. ‘What is someone like this doing here?’

That was not to say there was something wrong with the teen. No, in fact, the issue was the opposite. The teen was stunningly beautiful. With his luminous blue eyes, skin the color of soft caramel, and his firm body, the boy was desirable, immeasurably so. Reinfield glanced at his Master’s eyes and noted both the interest and the hunger there. There was no question in the servant’s mind that the youth would be spending the evening with his Master...and maybe more.

Renfield turned his head to the side and gestured to one of his Master’s children. No words needed to be exchanged.

  
His Master’s children always did enjoy a good show.

* * *

 

Grayson watched fascinated as his charm washed over the blue eyed youth and then fell away. It was not uncommon to find humans whose wills allowed them to repel a vampire’s charm. But there were a slim few, nay! Near none!; who could resist the charm from Grayson.

That alone made Conner far more valuable than a late night snack.

The vampire pulled the teen flush against his side and suppressed the urge to nuzzle the teen’s neck. Grayson leaned in close and inhaled deeply, taking in his scent, his true smell beneath all the filth clinging to him.

“Tell me, Conner.” Grayson locked eyes with the teen, “Do you have any plans tonight?”

“I…I…no?” When the teen starts to blush, it takes a considerable amount of willpower not to strip the boy and ravage him in the middle of the street.

“Then join me. My companions and I were just on our way to a late dinner.”

“I…I don’t-”

“I insist. Your company would make my dull night rather pleasant.” Alexander takes one of the clone’s wrist, turns it over and places a small number of sensual open mouthed kisses along the vulnerable flesh. The vampire can smell the arousal rising from the teen and Alexander watched intently as Conner’s eyes began to darken and cloud over with desire.

The smell of the youth’s arousal began to grow thick and heady, making the other vampires in Grayson’s company shift in place but they moved no closer. They would not risk the wrath of their Sire.

“And I would, of course, ensure the rest of your time here to be…beyond memorable. Your every _need_ met. Your every _want_ fulfilled. You will join me, won’t you, Pretty one?”

Alexander’s every word was laced with honeyed promise and those promises did not sound entirely innocent. The brunette hesitated for a moment but, alas, it was _only_ for a moment.

“Okay.” The teen whispers, not sure if he can trust his voice.

Conner knows going off with a strange person is foolish, dangerous, especially someone that _**wasn't**_ human as Alexander's inhumane strength proved. But Conner didn't come to New Orleans to be "safe" or "good." Conner wanted to be reckless. He wanted to do those things Superman wouldn't, those things Alyssa imagined. Conner wanted to put as much distance between himself and the person he was made from.

He wasn't a fool, though.

The teen could guess what Alexander wanted to do to him. Conner didn't look old enough to drink, so "legally" he wasn't able to consent to anything else. That also showed how dangerous the man was because it meant there were few, if any, things that Alexander cared for. It meant there were few things he wouldn't do to get what he wanted.

Ironically, Conner didn't care either.

A hero who didn't care for his own life. What sweet oblivion awaited him, and there wasn't enough self-worth within him for Conner to bring himself to care.

Whatever Alexander was, he was clearly strong enough to hold the hybrid and that set Conner's pulse rushing. It set the teen on edge, partly in excitement and part in fear. Conner had meet a number of things that could match and surpass him, strength wise but Alexander was different. The man/being didn't want to hurt him, at least, not if Conner didn't want him to. Conner got the distinct impression that he wanted to do the exact opposite and it made his head spin a bit.

So, the hybrid took a chance and if he got hurt then there was no one to blame but himself. There wasn't anyone to tell him differently, to warn the clone of the dangers to being an older man's play thing. As far as Conner was concerned, he meant very little to anyone and if Alexander found value in his body, he wouldn't push the creature away. It was more than he had before.

Besides, it wasn't as if Conner was getting nothing in return. It was one night of...something. Conner didn't know what that something was just yet. But he was willing to go along and find out.

It was more than he had before, anyway.

"Perfect." The vampire purrs. "You won't regret this, my lovely."

The vampire gave Conner's wrist another open mouth kiss, brushing his hidden fangs along the vulnerable pulse. Placing the teen's hand on his shoulder, Alexander used his free hand to cradle the back of Conner's head as he spread his fingers to massage along the teen's pulse, jaw, and scalp. Conner closed his eyes on reflex as the vampire worked tense muscles loose. The teen moaned as Alexander found a particularly rough bundle of nerves at the base of his skull, completely unaware of the vampire's increasingly sharp gaze.

With his control rapidly leaving him, Alexander tilted Conner's head and leaned in for a more thorough tasting.  The hybrid was surprised by the kiss, unsure what it meant.  Kissing as he knew it was a sign of affection but the two just meet!  Conner could find no reason or logic for any sort of affection directed at him.  Before he could think further, Alexander took control of the kiss. 

The vampire's lips were cool but didn't hide the heat behind them.  Alexander coaxed Conner into responding, running his tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission.  When Conner tentatively started to respond, Alexander plunged, forcing his tongue between the teen's lips and plundered the teen for all that he was worth.  The shocked clone could do nothing but surrender as Alexander dominated the kiss, dominated _him_. 

While the vampire ravaged his prey's first kiss, the arm that had been wrapped around Conner's waist started to explore.  It lifted the back of Conner's shirt to caress the skin there, fingers dipping into jeans before retreating.  Conner could feel the older man's desire pressing up against him and found himself rubbing Alexander's straining hard on.  The growl that rumbled through Conner, traveled straight to his own groin and he moaned before going limp, submitting completely to the other.

Alexander released Conner's lips, allowing the teen to catch his breath.  The vampire licked his lips and, hungry for more, moved his other hand from Conner's neck to join the other down at the teen's hips.  The vampire fondled the teen's hips and thighs that he could reach before gripping his hips again and forcefully grinding the two together.  The wanton moan that fell from Conner's mouth nearly did Alexander in.

"You are temptation incarnate, pretty one." Alexander growled, fangs a mere breath away from being drawn.  "Won't you let me take you? Ravage you? Make you scream and beg? I can, you know I can- ** _LeT. mE_**."

Alexander needed Conner to know his intentions.  He needed Conner to understand just what he was walking into and how deeply he sought to take him.  Unfortunately, The Beast within slipped free for just a moment but it's hunger was immense and Alexander fought to contain it for a while longer.  It was placated for now, with the promise of soon having Conner spread beneath him.  But it would not last very long. 

Both hands moved from hip to cheek, fondling Conner's backside through his jeans while still creating a delicious amount of friction to keep Conner from turning away.  Conner, whose senses were already dull since the first kiss, loses the last of his resistance and throws his head back in submission, exposing his neck to the vampire.

"Please..." he begs, voice barely more than a whisper, eyes half-lid and body wanton. 

With the flush of victory running through his veins, Alexander latches onto unblemished stretch of flesh presented to him, a growl of approval vibrating along the teen's pulse.  He would have continued, ignored all the world except the delectable treat presenting itself, submitting, before him, if not for his company.

"Forgive me, Master," Renfield interrupted, "perhaps a more suitable location would be preferred. It would not do for the vagabonds of this city to believe they may join you, after all." 

With a snarl, Renfield's master loosened his grip on his prize but refused to release the teen.  With that one taste, Grayson knew he had no intention of letting go of his prize anytime soon.  Nor would he share, especially with the filth that crowded the streets of New Orleans at this time.  No, somewhere much more suitable would be much better.  Especially if it was a place where Alexander could take his time sampling his new acquisition.  Grayson eyed the surrounding crowd and easily noticed a few eyeing _his_ Conner.

Normally, the idea of just taking Conner in the middle of a crowd would greatly appeal to him, but this crowd would not do.  No, it would not.

"Agreed. See to it, Renfield."

The African American bowed his head.

"It is already done, Master.  The **_Dark Palace_** awaits our arrival."  Grayson manages to tear his eyes from Conner to look at his servant with a spark of glee in his gaze.

"Is that so." A low pleased purr rolled from his chest. "Let's not waste time then. It wouldn't do to be late after all."

Turning back to the teen still in his arms, Alexander shifts his hold so that he may keep Conner securely within his arms and then started walking at a brisk pace.  And if that pace included whispering all the things he wanted to do to Conner in his ear while his hip and thigh raised the teen's arousal, then it was a pleasurable consequence. 

* * *

 

Drake Grayson stood atop the highest point of some random church overlooking the entire city.  He is an example of the perfect man.  Fit, handsome with chiseled rough cheekbones, hard eyes the color of tempered steel, and with a strict code of honor.  He preferred cargo pants that allowed for freer movement and an open jacket, often forgoing the use of shirts.  He would be considered the perfect man, if he was human.  But Drake Grayson was no man.  No, he shared the same heritage as his brother.

His brother, Alexander Grayson.

For untold millennium, the Grayson Brothers, though that was not their original names, have engaged in the ultimate game of cloak and daggers.  They have pretended to be each other and No One. They have changed skins to be weak or frail as needed. They have faked their own "death" more times than history has on record. 

They have also shared the name, "Dracula". 

So much so, that true accounts of who is the progenitor of the vampires is so obscured as to be non-existent.  Not that either brother cares, regardless that Alexander is older by seconds.  Such is the way of twins.  And like many twins, they share certain characteristics.

Both vampires were once warrior-kings.  That does not mean they discarded the old ways entirely but each twin leaned toward a certain inclination.  Both have a cruelty to them, a perversity that can break the minds of any mortal man.  However, Alexander can also be charming and is not shy when manipulating the emotions and actions of others, directly or indirectly.  His brother, Drake, cares nothing for those who do not belong him.  His disdain for vampires and humans he consider weak is a point that he does not hide.  Drake loves a good fight and could be seen sparing with his brother when both feel the need to release the Beasts within them for a short while.

The Beasts. The forms and mindset from which the myth of Dracula was born.  It is a aspect of their power that they keep reserved for battle.  Over the centuries, they learned to contain it for the sole purpose of being more efficient in combat and in battle.  After all, what use is power if one cannot control it?

Normally, Drake's warrior mentality would have him rally against containing such an important part of himself but events and times have changed.  He understands that changes, even those unpleasant, are necessary and that rewards can be made from such changes. But when Drake hungered for a fight, Alexander was always capable of find one for his brother and so Drake never made a fuss.

Why should he? Drake knew well what motivated his brother and the events that led them to their current status. 

Drake had no issue with his brother siring so many children, provided they were useful and strong.  Drake once desired the same.  Indeed, when they were young to the world, they hungered for more than a fight.  They hungered for the flesh of supple women and the pride of having sired multiple young, heirs to carry on their legacy, proof of their virility.  What could be greater than having a legacy to pass on?  What could be a greater proof of your power than by having strong children come from your very loins?

Alas, that dream was a dream perverted by men.

Turning a human into a vampire is a simple task.  But the children born in such a way were weak.  Some could not walk in sunlight and some could not control their own hunger.  Like flipping a coin, there was fifty-fifty chance the fledglings born would be strong enough to overcome or adapt to such changes.  For others, the human in them was too strong and thus the potential childe did not survive the change.  It had become a norm that Drake hated and became disgusted with.   

So, the brothers sought a natural way to sire children.  A task that proved to be far harder than it seemed.  Because they were not human, women who could sate and survive a night with them were few.  Of those that could, none had ever became heavy with child, all that is but one. 

A woman named IIona. 

Originally, Alexander used IIona as a means to infiltrate an organization called The Order of the Dragon, dedicated to eradicating that which hunted humans and who had started to hunt vampires.  They were ignorant of how vampires came to be, only that they were abominations and were learning how they could be killed.  Of course, those they hunted were the weaklings that the brothers turned for sport or humiliation.  It was only after they learned of the danger of having such weaklings carrying on unsupervised that they found many dying. 

IIona was a beauty, intelligent and strong for a human, Drake did not hesitate to admit.  Alexander, who at the time went by Vlad III, had achieved his goal and made plans to end the Order when he discovered IIona was pregnant with his child.  The brothers knew she had not laid with another nor that had she been violated. 

So, they stayed their hand for a while.  Just to see if she could carry to term, if even the possibility existed that she would give birth.  To ensure no other would take her, Vlad III married her and made her his wife, a first for either brother to experience. 

At first, they were hopeful until she miscarried.  But they were not so discouraged.  This was the first possibility, a chance for trueborn heirs.  The brothers waited until her fertility was at its peak before attempting again and _they_ did. It is a simple skill for the brothers to change into each other's skin.  They sought to see if it was their seed or her womb that needed better nourishment or if IIona needed something else to carry the child. 

For the one thing they learned early on, it was that women who are turned can no longer have children and so, IIona could not be turned. 

They learned many things in their exploration.  The first was that while fertile, IIona needed to be filled heavily with their seed every time they took her.  Afterwards, having her keep the child became a challenge and little by little they learned what helped her carry their young for longer and longer. 

However, in their zeal and obsession they made one miscalculation, IIona herself.  For she noticed the change and the differences in the brother's touch in bed.  When confronted, Vlad did not lie to her but neither did he tell her the whole truth.  Vlad knew her heart and his obsessive love for her would not let him have her leave him.  He spoke of the failed children, the monsters that stalked humanity because of he and his brother longing for children, and of how they had finally found a means, a safe means, of having a family.

He knew his wife desired the same.  The vampire did not hesitate to use this to keep her at his side. 

She knew there was more but did not grudge the brothers their secrets and asked that they were honest and true to her from then on.  Vlad agreed and IIona meet her husband's brother, at the time Dragon, for the first time.  What followed was an erotic adventure IIona could never have fathomed in her wildest dreams.  The brothers were not shy in sharing her.  Even at the same time. 

They took her and used her and made her scream for more.  Vlad was meticulous, always wanting to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible and then go again.  His was a maddening torture.  Dragon was more animal than man and found ways to coerced her into enjoying being mounted or otherwise roughly used.  In time, Dragon found it within him to care for his brother's wife.  How could he not be pulled by her charm and her own unique strength?   

It was not long before the brothers discovered just what was needed for IIona to carry to full term...their seed.  She needed to be taken and filled at least once every several days, along with other nourishment such as fresh fruits and drinks that other expectant mothers needed.  If not, the child would grow frail and brittle within her womb. 

The brothers took to their task with a zeal and ferocity that would have any zealot bow in shame and envy.  The first child had been carried to full term, before dying unexpectedly during the birth. 

In their fury, they killed all those who were present during the birth.  In doing so, they learned that "unexpectedly" was in fact, planned.  They traced the reason and the source back to another member of the order who had saw Vlad as a rival and who desired IIona for his own.  Their wrath was fierce and so was their retaliation.  

That proved to be their undoing.       

In their blind obsession, they had failed to account for the cunning of greedy men.  When the brothers retaliated, they attempted to frame another for their deed.  They had not anticipated an alternative plan that would implicate Vlad or that there were others eager to see the "prince" gone. 

IIona in her grief was also blinded and could not see the mistakes they made.  Only too happy that the murderer of her baby was gone and that the brothers promised to fill her womb with more children than their castle could hold, with sons and daughters she could love and cherish. 

It was a dream that would not come to pass.  Circumstances would work against them.  An abomination, a fledgling, would arise and proclaim himself "King" of the vampires, bringing attention from hunters and vampires alike.  Dragon would be forced to hunt it before other hunters could learn anymore secrets of their race and during this time, Vlad and IIona would suffer pain and agony. 

When Dragon returned victorious, it was to a brother half mad with grief and the ashes of his wife, the first Bearer, scattered to the winds.

Thus, the true war between the Vampires and the Order of the Dragon began. 

Vengeance is a powerful motivator and an even more deadly tool when used by a vampire.  Since that time, the brothers have grown in power and in cunning.  There are other creatures they have allied with that grow weary of the Order and their hypocrisy.  To be sure, some have their uses but other creatures' tolerance of them has begun to wane. 

With the emergence of "heroes" what need have people for the Order?  Those like Batman and Wonder Woman are more than enough to purge entire cities of the filth that occasionally spill from the clans.  Those not immediately dealt with are left at the mercy of the world. 

But Bearers...Bearers are far and few between.  

After IIona, the brothers encountered less than a dozen. And none survived longer than a month in their company due to the Order.  Even the Wolf King in the North took steps to keep any Bearer found as safe as possible.  A task that saved a small handful over the centuries, something the brothers were immeasurably glad for.  Alas, the current King has encountered none, has yet to even encounter his own mate at the age of twenty one. The lack of progress is frustrating to the young king due to a variety of circumstances including interference from the Order.

It is tradition for the heir of the wolf packs of the north to go in search of his mate-to-be but a surprise ambush from the Order led to the death of his father and so the Mate Hunt was put on hold.  It was a frustration that the Grayson brother's share with their own lack of progress.  But Drake respected the young wolf's patience, forced as it was.  In turn, all refugees, runaways, and tourists, the vampires encounter they make sure to send his way on the off chance anyone of them is the mate the wolf is looking for.  It is the least they can do and is a fraction of the full scope of their alliance. 

But this interference with Bearers and mates has set many on edge.  The brothers were sure the Order didn't know their importance, just that they were especially cared for and wanted by vampires or that they were people who were especially wanted.  But with every finding and every death, precautions made by the brothers rose. 

As did their obsession. 

Drake closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.  There was a tension in the air but all Drake could feel was anticipation. A giddy feeling was building in his gut and the warrior knew the city could also feel it, could anticipate it.  Something was going to happen, _is_ happening.  Drake looked out into the city, staring into the blaring lights and inhaling the arousal and musk rolling off the denizens. 

He waited and waited but the build only grew.  As did his frustration.  He couldn't tell from where it was coming from.  Only that it was there. 

With a snarl forming on his lips, Drake fell from his perch and disappeared into the darkness.  If he could not pinpoint the reason then he needed someone who could, like his brother.  It did not take long before the vampire was moving through the crowd, eyeing everyone as he passed.  He took his time, carefully assessing the people around him.  

Half way to his destination, he abruptly stops.  A thrill runs through him.  It takes an immeasurable amount of control for him not to shift right in the middle of the street.  Luckily, another figure moves into his vision, another vampire.  From the scent, its one of his eldest, Aidan Waite, a turned vampire he took in after Aidan's sire killed his first wife and child before trying again with his current mate, a nurse named Josh.  Aidan proved to be strong and Drake did not regret killing the fledgling's sire and taking the vampire or his small coven in.

"You're needed at the **_Dark Palace_**. Your brother is requesting you."

"What is-"

" _Now_ , Sire."

Drake frowned.  Aidan has never interrupted him before.  He hardly refers to Drake as "sire" or "master", preferring the more neutral "sir" or "General".  For him to do so, and in public...

In less than a second, Drake is moving.  The **_Palace_** is a private hotel that is used more like a pleasure house than an actual hotel.  Not quite a brothel but not a place for children or humans.  It was luxurious as befitting the brothers station as kings.  It was illuminated by numerous chandeliers and had numerous wide rooms.  The entrance had the same design as other luxurious hotels plus several elite guards to keep problematic guest or visitors from moving any further into the hotel.  The guards are not all visible and were trained or turned by Drake himself. 

It was also an ideal location for sheriffs of various locations to gather and trade or negotiate.  Sheriffs were vampires chosen to lead or guard a location, usually a city or, depending on their status, a state.  Drake knew there were two vampires who were governors of their states and were instrumental in keeping tabs on the Order.  Any movement they made, the Grayson brothers were aware of.  Aidan is Sheriff of Boston and only leaves once a year or two to negotiate or for more training with Drake.  The only reason he was in New Orleans was to give in his report of recent Order and feral skirmishes.

Drake strides through the hotel's doors with an urgency that is given new life at what he takes in.  At a glance, everything seems fine.  But Drake is no fledgling.  He takes in the tension of the guards and the statute smile on the concierge and other hotel staff.  Aidan stays a way behind him, eyeing him like one would a wild animal.  There was a shift in the air, a heaviness that was foreign and familiar. Almost as if..

Drake stops in the middle of the atrium.  He ignores how stiff everyone else becomes.  Ignores how those closest to him move just to the side and away from him.  No, he notices none of this.

He inhales deeply.  He knows this scent, this smell.  Drake tilts his head back slightly, just to better taste the air. 

Then Drake is moving, fangs barred, eyes red.  He didn't ask anyone where his brother was.  He already knew. He could smell it, smell **_them_**.

Vampires move out of his way, running or leaping and dodging.  He doesn't see them, anyone not his brother is unimportant.  He makes his way to the presidential lounge and burst through the double doors. Drake isn't surprised when he finds his brother in the middle of the room on a backless settee.  But the black haired teen he was fucking into the settee did and who immediately made his cock hard. 

The fledglings move aside as he steps forward and the circle around his brother widens as the other vampires notice his presence.  His dislike for humans is well known but whether he will accept his brother's new toy is unknown to them.  But Drake doesn't take his eyes off the pair on the settee.  Alexander's back is to him but Drake doesn't mind.  His eyes are drawn to the teen on his back, both hands above him, holding the end of the settee, with his eyes glazed and blushing face.  The teen's legs are thrown over Alexander's shoulders, trapped there as his brother pounds away.  The sounds coming out of the teen's mouth are better than any porn star's.

His neck is barred in submission. A flush is spread from his neck to his chest.  Alexander's thrust are wild and covered in his own seed, proof that he's come inside the teen at least once.  His brother's grip on the teen's hips is fierce and possessive.  There is a bite on the left side of the teen's neck that looks more like a bruise.     

Drake doesn't tear his eyes away, almost afraid the vision will disappear.  Seeing his brother fucking a teen isn't new to him, no, its that the teen smells; **_so_** ; fertile.

Almost like a Bearer.  ...A Bearer being fucked by his brother.  His mouth starts to water and he slowly strolled around the settee to meet his brother's eyes.

"Alex." His brother looks up, eyes red, fangs barred and bloody, grinning. 

"Drake, _hnk_... brother. Look what I've found." A growl tears from his throat as Conner tightens around him, "Hells...soon, brother...Come for me, Conner...for **_Us_**..."

Alexander's words fail him and Drake watches as his brother's cock slides in and out of the teen.  He watches as the teen starts to scream louder and louder.  As his brother's rhythm is lost and his thrust becomes erratic.  As the teen's hips rise to meet Alexander's thrust as best he can.  As the teen's toes start to curl and his body starts to coil in anticipation.  Like lightening, his brother bites into Conner's neck and the scream that is torn from the teen's throat nearly makes Drake come.  But the sight of his brother releasing his seed inside the teen's tight passage and said teen coming on his stomach, does. 

Drake leans over Conner's end of the settee, to hold himself and to inhale the mingling scents of his brother and the Bearer. And the teen was, Drake was sure, perhaps not yet fully flowered but Drake could not forget the smell of a blooming Bearer if he tried.

Drake growls deeply before undoing his pants.

"Alexander, you have some explaining to..." Drake trails off and freezes as his brother lets go of the teen's neck and it starts to heal, on it's own. "Well now..."

"Beautiful, isn't he?" The vampire says breathlessly, "He heals _spectacularly_ well. You would know if you'd been here sooner."

"I can smell why."

"I didn't notice until I got him here.  He was covered in some filth's scent."

"Well, he smell's delicious now." Drake grins, "He's not ready. Not completely but that's fine. How many?"

"Three." He answers, before pulling out of the teen and licking his lips, "And he heals. Every. Time."

Before Drake can respond, Conner whimpers as Alex lowers his legs to his sides, gently caressing the teen's thighs.  The bite on his neck starts to heal.  It's sluggish but visible.  The hand marks on his waist, color for a moment and then vanish.  The sweat on his body rolls and starts to dry.  Alexander runs his hand through Conner's hair. 

"Be at ease, pretty one." He leans over to nuzzle at the healing mark. "Meet my brother, Drake.  He and I will care for you."

Alexander looks at his brother with barely concealed glee.  There is triumph and joy in his eyes.  Drake can see it clearly because he knows its reflected in his own gaze.  Along with something else: the obsessive hunger to mate and rut.  And there, before them, lay a Bearer, willing and submissive.  Alexander nuzzles Conner's mark even as it heals and gives it a loving kiss.  His hands gently caress Conner's trembling arms and they fall to the settee. 

"He's never laid with anyone before. Come, Drake, my brother.  We'll be his first.  ** _aNd aLl ThAt will bE_**!"

Drake throws off his jacket and gives a throaty laugh at his brother's lack of control or rather, his release of the Beast within. 

"Then we'd best get started." He meets the blue eyes of his new prey and grins at the thoroughly sated gaze he finds. "Conner, was it? My name is Drake and I have every intention of fucking you raw. So, let us see just how high we can make you fly."

* * *

Conner was on fire.

He was sure of it.  Every nerve and vessel alight with pleasure and heat.  His legs trembled and if it weren't for the hard chest behind him or the lap he was bouncing on, Conner was sure he'd have fallen over. As it was, he could hardly form any more thought beyond how hot he was and how close he was to flying again.

Oh! To fly!

It wasn't like he originally thought it should be.  But, he thinks, he likes this better.  The world wasn't so loud, so chaotic.  He couldn't hear the other vampires in the room.  All his focus was on the two with him.  Distantly, Conner thinks they must be important if no one else stops them or tries to join. 

"D-drake!" Conner rasps, his throat dry, "p-please!"

He needed more. More! He was so close but he knew he wouldn't be able to reach that place, the sky without the vampire's help.  A near demonic chuckle sounded at his throat and Conner barred his neck, hoping desperately he'll take a bite and let him come.  Conner needed it! As it was, the pleasure was starting to hurt.  The hybrid never expected for something so good to be so painful.  The paradox made his wavering vision swim even more.  He'd lost count of how many times they'd made him fly, made him scream their names and bite away at him. 

He just knows he wants more.  Because this was his.  His night.  His moment to be solely Conner.  And no one else.  He doesn't want to think about when it ends.  And it will end. 

Good things always do. 

Unbidden, tears started to form in his eyes. He quickly tried to look at the ceiling, to keep them from falling, because it feels like a good bye.  Like something is ending and he no longer wants Drake to send him flying.  He wants to stay like this, in Drake's lap riding his monster like cock that burns every time Conner finishes healing, the vampire's hands around his waist and chest with one arm locked at his side and the other freely holding on to the vampire.  As if to keep him there. 

"Drake, stop stalling." Alex warns as he smoothly slides his fingers along his cheek, where one tear managed to get loose, "Let him come. He needs care."  

Conner can't find it in him to protest.  Can't find the words to express what he really feels or wants.  He desperately doesn't want to stop but he _needs_ to fly! Needs it like he's needed it all the times before. Like-

Drake gives a vicious snarl before vampire jaws bite down on his neck with the power to break bones.

It sends Conner over the edge.

-the hybrid's eyes roll back as he comes again, a rattling rasp falling from his lips before he collapses bonelessly into Drake's steel vice like hold. Conner is barely able to keep his eyes open.  He's exhausted, passed the point of human fatigue but he doesn't want to stop.  Doesn't want this to end.  Before, it didn't take much for the hybrid to come but when Alexander suddenly shifted and bit him, it always took just that much more for him to fly.  Being used by a vampire wasn't what he was expecting, or being stripped in front of a crowd of them and having sex, with them watching him.

Then, it suddenly didn't matter. 

Alexander and Drake practically glowed when they learned they were his first and promised to be his first is all things, and made sure of it.  They took him in more ways then one and made sure each time was different then the last.  Drake took him from behind on his knees, once on his back, there was a turn where they made sure to thrust one cock in after the other and Conner even managed to take both vampires at the same time.  

And he enjoyed it, loved it.  Every second.  Because this belongs to him, to Conner. 

And, he doesn't want that to stop.  Doesn't want to let this go and return to Superboy and the Cave and Superman and training and the throbbing chaos of the world threatening to drown him. But... 

Conner releases a rough sigh.  He's tired, he thinks distantly, mournfully. 

"This is a good place to stop." Alex remarks lowly, almost as if he didn't want to provoke Conner, which almost made the hybrid laugh if he had the energy. "I sent for dinner.  And I doubt the settee is the place for that."

"Fair enough." Drake rumbles as he licks Conner's neck clean. "I don't mind some down time."

What follows is a whirl of activity that Conner can hardly follow.  Drake groans in disappointment as he pulls out of the teen with a wet squelch, his cock still dripping and Conner's body trembling from exhaustion.  The hybrid's wrapped in something warm and soft.  A robe? A towel? He can't tell but then he knows he's being carried somewhere.  For a long moment, Conner blacks out and time passes. 

He comes to in a massive suit with someone running a hand through his hair...and a mouth licking his groin from base to tip.  A weak gasp breaks pass his lips and Conner can barely string two words together as a fruit of some sort is placed at his parted lips.  It takes a while for him to coherently figure out what is happening. 

Alexander is lounging next to him on a luxury settee, feeding him by hand.  Drake is on his knees, licking and swallowing him, drawing out his pleasure into a slow and torturous thrill.  Conner lets the vampire feed him and lets the rising wave of pleasure build.  There isn't anything he can do about it anyway.

Vampires are strong. 

It's what drew Conner to Alex out on the street, why he said yes.  Because there was someone stronger who wanted him, who seduced him and who didn't hide that intention.  It was insane and dangerous and it still is.

Conner wasn't expecting vampires.  Or that two would do their absolute best to completely dominate him.  The fangs and shifting eyes were really hard to miss the first time.  But by then, the hybrid's senses were long gone.  He just didn't care.  Now, he's just too tired to make much of a fuss about it, about them. 

Besides, Conner felt good. Tired but good. 

He eats the fruit and finger sandwiches.  He rides the pleasure as Drake works him to a renewed frenzy, his tired body flexing and tensing, ready for one final climax. And it will be final.  Conner is sure of it.  Like he was sure he wanted out of Cadmus.  He was sure this was the end. 

Conner was tired of good things ending.  Or never happening at all. This would be-

-He throws his head back and with a wordless shout, blacks out.

* * *

He comes to hours later.  The sun is up and he feels lethargic.  He blinks rapidly, unsure about where he was or why.

When Conner manages to get a good look around, it all comes rushing back to him. The chaos, the people, Alexander and the discovery of vampires, and then...

"Oh..."

It was morning or, late morning? Conner couldn't quite tell.  He rolls out of the bed and untangles himself from the sheets. (Did someone tuck him in?)

He's alone in the room. (There's a pain in his chest that he doesn't understand.) It smells clean, and unused.  That isn't much of a surprise since everything happened in a bigger atrium in front of a crowd.  But...

...he was hoping for a good bye. Kind of. Or something. Acknowledgment? He didn't know. 

This was fine too. (It wasn't.  Not really. He doesn't know why yet.  Why them not being here hurts. But he's been hurt before and he can handle it.  He can deal...but he's tired of having to do that, too.)

He's a mess and he knows its time to go.  He needs to check on his "sister", so leaving is important...is not hard. Not really. 

Conner's left a lot of places already.

* * *

When Alexander returns to their rooms, he's expecting many things.  He's expecting Conner to be fast asleep or just rousing from his slumber.  He's expecting his brother to be back from patrol, buried inside Conner's tight passage, breeding the Bearer with all his might.

He's expecting Conner on his knees with his brother's cum dripping down his cream covered thighs.

He's not expecting to find an empty suit.

He's not expecting to find Conner gone.

He's not expecting a choppy note, written using the hotel stationary, thanking he and his brother for the night.

He's not expecting that note to end with "good bye".

It wasn't what he envisioned when he left to deal with his affairs for the day and so feels perfectly justified, absolutely and perfectly justified, completely losing his temper.

The Beast **_Roars_**!    

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, quick recap for those who don't know, Alexander Grayson is portrayed by Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Drake Grayson is portrayed by Dominic Purcell.


End file.
